Programming
by Lanaa Taurof
Summary: Cameron's job is to protect John Connor and she takes her job very seriously. In the year 2027 John acquires, reprograms, and teaches a terminator unlike any other the value of self.
1. Programming

**Author's Note:** This story takes place in the general vicinity of the year 2027 before John sent Cameron back. There is some bad language here, so if that kind of thing offends you or you're too young, take thyself elsewhere. Please feel free to review, whether it be good or bad. Constructive criticism never hurt anybody. Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer:** None of this belongs to me. It's a property of 20th Century Fox, C-2 Pictures and Warner Brothers. All I'm doing is amusing myself with these lovely characters to pass the time.

* * *

Reprogramming a machine wasn't difficult if you knew what you were doing. He had programmed terminators to stand guard, act as moving shields for his men, or serve as heavy lifters for machinery that would normally require another machine or several soldiers.

This one was special, though. SkyNet had created a masterpiece in this machine. A smaller, denser chassis carried living tissue unlike any terminator he had seen. Capturing it had cost him the lives of good soldiers.

They had found it on the move into Topanga. Unlike the other terminators found on site, this particular machine appeared to be in charge. It had organized the machines, moving them forward to defend the site. It had been impressive, in hindsight, to see tactical maneuvering used when brute force was nearly always preferred by the machines.

In the end, though, he had brought too many soldiers and overwhelmed them. Nearly a dozen terminators had been captured, their chips safely removed for reprogramming on a later date.

The first several machines were trial and error. He would wipe the drives, which erased the original code and gave him a blank slate. He then set about reprogramming them. Tinker here, put a new strand of code there, then see what happened. All were programmed to defend Tech-Com. It wouldn't do to release monsters in among the population. Even with everyone's guard up, a machine would be able to kill a dozen or so before being put down.

His final project was the special machine. He agonized over the code for weeks. What little sleep he allowed himself was intermittent at best. He would wake during the night, the unfinished code calling to him, demanding his attention.

It was a relief now to be finished. His mind and body exhausted, he placed the chip within its housing and made a quarter turn clockwise. It was gratifying to feel the snap as the piece locked into place.

He was shocked to see the ocular sensors did not glow red, but instead a cerulean blue. Using its metal endoskeleton, it bent sharply at the waist and rose to a sitting position, fastening its attention on him. Either this was going to work or he was going to be very dead.

He decided not to allow it to speak first. Breaking the silence he asked, "What is your model class?"

"TOK715," it said. Its voice was confused, as though it had woken from a disorienting dream. The machine looked around, taking in its surroundings, evaluating the situation he assumed.

"What is your mission?" Checking the basics was always the first set of questions. It helped when a reprogrammed terminator didn't kill outright, but you had to be sure the hardwired stuff was ingrained.

"John Connor," it said simply. That wasn't what he'd asked. Before he could ask the question again it stood, moving toward him. None of the others had done this and he found himself more than a little alarmed, but he held his ground. "John Connor, male, forty-four years of age, height: seventy-two inches, approximate weight: 81 kilograms --"

Before it could continue he interrupted, "Stop." Taking a step closer to it he said, "What are you doing?"

"You are John Connor," she said. "Body type and facial structure is a match."

"How do you know me?" He demanded. This wasn't something he had wired into her. He had intended on simply declaring himself, but she already knew who he was. This wasn't good.

At all. He was still alive, though, so he decided to see where this was going.

He noticed now that it seemed to be searching its databanks. A normal process run for a terminator took fractions of a second, but the silence stretched on for several breaths. "I seem to be missing files. There are large gaps present in known data storage units." Its head tilted to one side, indicating confusion.

"Yes. You've been reprogrammed." That seemed to bring some comfort to it. If it had been human the expression on its face would have been one of sudden awareness. A dawning understanding of the situation one found itself in. As it was, the information simply provided a logical answer to the query.

"Now tell me how you know me," he said again.

"Your physical description is on file. It appears that those files were not removed upon reprogramming." There was a pause for evaluation. "May I ask who performed those duties?" What was this thing doing asking him questions? All they did was take orders.

"I did," he said. The machine had no response for this, simply continuing to look at him. Its eyes had stopped glowing blue, instead reverting to the liquid brown he had become accustomed to seeing for the last two weeks.

"I am Cameron," it said without prompting.

"Who named you?" He asked.

A long pause again. He wondered how her neural net was constructed. It was obviously different than any of the others, because while its entire memory bank should have been destroyed, there were obviously spots within this creature's wiring that he had not stumbled upon. At current this didn't worry him, as the information she was conveying was in no way threatening, but he might need to go back in later.

"Unable to acquire data," Cameron said. Her eyes had a far away look to them, one he recognized in humans when they, too, tried to remember something that was just beyond their reach.

Waving his hand he said, "Don't worry about it." That was an absurd thing to say. Machines didn't worry. This was simply a matter of a computer not being able to find data. "Tell me what your mission is, Cameron."

He had her full attention now. Sharp eyes looked directly into his as she said, "My mission is to protect John Connor."


	2. Promises

Sitting at an old steel work table, John watched as Cameron surveyed the area. The eyes of this machine are much more critical than any he could find elsewhere, whether they be those of a human or another terminator. Yet she didn't move around the site as he thought she would.

"Cameron, don't you want to move farther down the tunnel?" He had discovered quickly that it was best to ask questions rather than make statements. Statements sounded too much like orders, and if she had no need to inspect the area there was no point in making her.

She turned away from the closed end of the tunnel, addressing him. "No. I can see everything from this location."

It amused him that, unless ordered, she never moved very far away from wherever he happened to be. Being his bodyguard was her job and she took her job very seriously.

He watched now as she walked to him and sat to his right. The rough plans he had laid out were for his use only, but Cameron looked at them studiously. A blast shelter needed to be constructed at the end of this tunnel. A structure that would be able to withstand anything SkyNet threw at it.

"The walls should be no less than eighteen inches deep," she said, moving her finger along the lines indicating the exterior walls. "Twenty-four inches would be preferred." He nodded, so she continued. "A solid locking system will need to be in place. Under no circumstances should the door be able to open unless it has been unlocked intentionally."

The construction of this thing had taken first priority after he had finished reprogramming Cameron. Part of the reason he had taken several terminators back with him was he knew he would need their strength to build a structure to protect both he and the time displacer acquired at Topanga.

"An ocular scanner would be --" She was interrupted by the pounding of running feet echoing down the tunnel. Before his hand could reach the gun at his hip, Cameron stood and placed herself between the intruder and himself. She had lifted her own weapon from beside the table; a large shotgun shooting slugs meant to penetrate the dense shell of a terminator. That only worked if you knew exactly where to aim.

Only a few short seconds passed before a kid named Walker barged around the corner. Seeing Cameron brought him to a very quick stop. Walker's eyes never left Cameron as he said, "Sir, Lieutenant Carter needs to see you right away."

Moving from around Cameron, who had lowered her weapon but still looked at Walker warily, John said, "See me about what?" He could tell Walker was uncomfortable with what he was about to say, the words refusing to come because he was unsure of the reaction he would receive from his leader. "Spit it out, kid. I don't have all day."

Finally tearing his eyes away from Cameron, Walker said, "I have orders not to speak in front of it, sir."

Despite years of practice in schooling his features, John knew he must have made some sort of expression, because Walker flinched. With only a hint of malice John said, "Cameron, let's go see the lieutenant."

Walker made sure he stayed a few steps behind Connor and his terminator as they moved through the tunnels toward Carter's quarters. He might not like the machine, but he'd be damned if he was going to get on the wrong side of General Connor.

As John walked through Carter's door, Carter looked up with relief upon seeing him. After seeing Cameron, however, that relief was quickly replaced by one of suspicion.

"I need to speak with you, General. The machine can't be here," Carter said as evenly as he was able.

"She can and will be here, Tom." Gesturing toward Cameron, who was only an arm length away, he said, "What the hell's wrong with you? Do you think she's a fucking decoration?!"

"I'm not sure what to think, sir!" Taking a step around a table, Carter moved toward John. His forward progress stopped, however, when Cameron eyes flashed blue. It didn't matter how focused he was on Connor, you couldn't miss those eyes when they glowed.

No matter what their feelings were for Cameron, not a soul doubted the machine's dedication to Connor. What they all feared, however, was that one day the 715 would turn on him. God only knew what would happen to them all then.

John turned to look at Cameron, seeing the signs of an aggressive terminator. The makeup of her programming allowed her to identify human triggers that signified emotion. He knew all of those triggers identified Carter as a threat. It didn't matter that he was human and a Tech-Com soldier, if Cameron considered him a danger he would be "neutralized."

Maimed or dead were the words used by normal people.

"Tom," John got Carter's attention before he did something really stupid, "she's my protection. She keeps them from killing my sorry ass. You think they care where I am down here or who's with me? They'll kill every one of you to get to me. She's the only thing that keeps that from happening. You have to let it go, soldier."

Carter shook his head. "I can't let it go like you can, John. All I've seen them do is kill. That's all they know to do or be. Mindless killers. The last time one of them went berserk it killed nine of us!"

John felt responsible for that. He did the reprogramming and it was up to him to do it right.

Cameron chose this moment to speak. "I was present to see the reprogramming of that triple-eight. The logic in the code was flawless. Its actions do not reflect incompetence. Any number of unknown variables could have been the cause," she said.

"Unknown variables?" Tom asked, with more than a little bitterness in his voice. "What's to keep your _unknown variables_ from killing _him_ in his sleep?!"

"My mission is to protect John," she said, face blank. As though that answered everything. John was sure that to her it did, but it was impossible for nearly every member of the resistance to trust a machine. They had too many bad memories and no good ones. This was the main reason it was only he performing the reprogramming of the terminators. No one else had the patience or willingness to invest time into something they felt should be destroyed outright.

There were so few, now, who remembered what it was like to truly marvel at the brilliance of a new gadget or computer advancement. They lived in a time now where either of those most likely meant death.

John watched as Tom looked between he and Cameron. Sighing, John said, "Tom, I know it's hard, but I need you to trust me on this one. It's my fault the others have gone bad, but trust me a little longer. I've taken us this far."

Carter knew he could not and would not win the argument, so he acquiesced. Once Connor had made up his mind about something there was no changing, and it was well known that Connor had long since made up his mind this machine.

Carter shook his head, smiling wryly. He motioned toward the chair opposite him and said, "Please sit, General." Connor sat, breaking the tension that had spread throughout the room. "We found something for you, sir." Looking at Cameron warily he continued. "It's a much more powerful magnet than the one you've been using. We think it's an industrial grade. Probably used by the military to wipe their drives."

The words weren't out of his mouth long enough for the sound to die when Connor jumped up from his seat and said through gritted teeth, "God damn it, Carter. You don't have that thing in here do you?!"

Carter, standing quickly, shook his head. "Hell no, sir! I've got enough sense to know not to have it out in the open."

Connor blew out a frustrated breath. He waved his hand dismissively, apologizing with a gesture. "Some of those things have a wide enough field that they'd affect a drive within a certain distance."

"There is no cause for concern," Cameron said. "I would have received a warning should I have entered the field of a large magnetic force."

Carter's eyes went from Cameron to Connor and back again. "That's why I didn't want her coming, sir. I figured if you wanted to use it on her it probably would have been best she not know about it in advance."

Cameron spoke to John saying, "It was a sound strategy, John."

Carter was surprised to hear his decision defended by the machine. The damned thing kept surprising him. He didn't like it.

"Thanks for hauling it in, Tom. Where did you find it?"

"Edwards," he said, indicating the Air Force base near China Lake. He and a crew had gone out to the old base on several occasions, searching for anything that might be useful. Usually there was only time to grab a few things and run, but this time the machines hadn't been buzzing around. It had allowed exploration and with any luck, one day soon the resistance would be able to set up a permanent base there.

"I'll take a look at it later," John said. He shook Carter's hand, then turned and made a motion toward Cameron with his head that it was time to go. She was well ahead of him, though, and moved to check the hall before he entered. Finding it clear, they moved back toward the tunnel they had occupied before being interrupted.

They had been walking for several minutes when Cameron spoke. "Perhaps it is a good idea to use this new magnet. The cleaner you wipe the hard disk the more effective the new programming will be." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Using it on me would bring peace of mind to your soldiers."

"No, Cameron," John said, his head shaking. "Your programming is fine. There are aspects to your CPU I hadn't counted on, but they're far more valuable to me than they are a danger. You give me access to how SkyNet operates that I wouldn't otherwise have. I need you like you are."

Cameron stopped walking, causing John to stop with her. "It is not logical. I do not know if my programming will revert. Neither do you." She stopped, as though trying to make sense of the data tumbling through her processors. "It's not safe for you, John."

Even though she had observed enough human interaction to have compiled a list of circumstances in which humans touched, it continually surprised her when simple conversation led to touching.

John's hand came up and cupped the underside of her jaw. She had seen this action once or twice. Its purpose was to focus the attention of the one being touched onto the one doing the touching. She required no such action. Losing focus was a human trait.

He spoke forcefully, his breaths registering on the sensors scattered so finely over the skin covering her endoskeleton. "I said no! Under no circumstances are you to seek out this magnet. That's an order, Cameron. You stay as you are. The only person who makes changes to you is me. Do you understand?"

Her face still clasped in his hand, she said, "Yes, John."

"Promise me," he said, hoarsely.

"I promise."

"Thank you."


	3. Faith

"Cameron."

The attention of the terminator, which had been focused on the laying of concrete, turned suddenly to the man standing over twenty yards down the tunnel. A single dark brow rose up toward her hairline in question. She kept learning new things like that. He motioned her to him with a very slight motion of his head.

John watched as Cameron moved through the tunnel crowded with workers. While a few of the men and women cut their eyes in contempt, she kept her own focused completely on him until he was close enough to touch. As had become their habit, he held a hand loosely and discretely by his side allowing Cameron to lay the tips of her fingers on his skin. Brown eyes drifted shut in a long blink before opening and focusing again on his.

"All systems go?" He asked quietly. The corner of her mouth turned up and a nearly imperceptible nod signaled yes. "I could have told you that," he mentioned for what had to have been the hundredth time.

"Yes, but you're not as accurate as I am," she argued.

"That's true," he responded. A moment passed in comfortable silence as John observed the comings and goings around Cameron and himself. Motioning toward the construction he asked, "How much longer do you think?"

"If the schedule is kept, thirty-three days," she said, turning to take in what he saw. They had been working twenty-seven without interruption. An enormous amount of progress was made each day, as not an hour was wasted. The heaviest work was performed by terminators, which were eight in total.

Given the uneasiness the human population had around the machines, the only time they worked together was when Cameron was on site. The only times Cameron was on site was when John was on site. This worked out well for everyone.

"Seven and thirteen will finish laying concrete in no more than an hour. They will then assist nine, ten, and twelve in laying crossbeams," she said. The machines, as they were acquired, had been given numerical identification.

"Good." He could feel Cameron's eyes on him, evaluating. She wouldn't be able to hold herself back for long. She might be built to last for centuries, but sometimes she could be impatient.

"What's wrong?" She queried. When he shook his head indicating nothing she placed a hand on the inside of his elbow and turned his attention to her. "You called me over here for a reason." He shrugged. Had Cameron the ability to become frustrated she would have ground her teeth together. Instead, she simply stared until John rolled his eyes imperceptibly and relaxed his posture a fraction.

He looked directly into her eyes and promised, "Later." Brushing past her, he began walking closer to the cement vault that would eventually serve as his quarters. "Walk with me, please," he requested.

As the cement dust crunched under their feet, the man and his machine walked until they arrived at the section of the tunnel were the crossbeams lay. "No cranes?"

"Not necessary," Cameron replied. John grunted disbelievingly. "You have seen what they can do."

"Yeah, I know," he acquiesced.

"I will assist as to avoid any mishaps," she supplied absently, missing the look she received.

"You will do no such thing," John announced.

Cameron's head turned deliberately and her facial expression was one of surprise. "I have already confirmed with Wickham that I would. He is concerned with the logistics. My presence eases those concerns to a degree."

"I said no."

"Why?"

"If you let them, they'll treat you like all the others." From the look on her face, he could tell she was about to confirm his words. "No, you're not. You know that. It's not your job to make them happy."

"Thank you for explaining."

"You're welcome." Looking over the area Wickham was in charge of, he said, "Do you want me to tell him?"

"That is not necessary. My absence will be indicative." There was a long pause before she spoke again. "What other duties would you have me perform?"

"Cameron, my problem isn't with you overseeing everything here. Especially dealing with the metal." He looked now, seeing faces rather than looking over them, and noticed there were quite a few sets of eyes taking in his conversation. It would have bothered anyone else, but too many years had passed in which the eyes of others looked on him seeking answers he didn't have. Very little bothered him anymore; disapproval of others, most of all. "My problem is you performing tasks beneath you. They couldn't come up with the plans for this thing," he said, motioning toward the bunker. "Not a single human or machine in this place can do what you do."

"What exactly is it that I do, John?"

"You know the answer to that question."

"Protect you."

"Yes, and you do a fine job."

"Thank you." She looked at him long enough for him to know she was working through a problem. One he probably wasn't going to like.

"What is it?" He asked.

"You don't know why they go bad, but it happens." She looked to the 888s and then into his eyes. "What protects you from me?"

"Faith."

* * *

The End


End file.
